I'm A Double Agent For Love

I’m A Double Agent For Love




I have a secret.  I live in two worlds.  Half the people who know me from one world, don’t know my other life in my alternate reality.  Vice versa, the same is true.  In all actuality, its far more glamorous than it sounds.  By day, and on weekends, I teach and perform as a harpist.  At night, I burn the midnight oil writing stories about paranormal love and romance.


I do my best to keep my worlds apart.  


Music is extremely competitive.  When I once mentioned to a parent that I wrote a kids book, they looked at me stern concern. “I hope this won’t effect your dedication to your students.”  A similar experience happened when I was in a marketing meeting with a music promoter.  I talked about adding a short story I’d written to my website.  His words cut through me, “People don’t let anyone in the public eye be more than one thing at a time.  It’s just not natural.  You’re going to have to pick a muse and stick with it.”


But I don’t want to pick.  I love writing.  I love playing the harp.  And sometimes, just sometimes, a day like yesterday happens.  Since we are approaching summer break, some of my students are away on vacation.  I was basking in the delicious freedom of a late morning cup of coffee and a large block of writing time when it happened.


My female character, Elizabeth had just revealed her secret ability to help solve murder cases.  In the scene, she is afraid and has left herself feeling vulnerable and open to the leading man, Detective Flannery.  Like any good, red headed woman, she deals with vulnerability by being quick witted and silver tongued.  Flannery falls deeper in love with each sassy attempt she makes at deflecting her feelings.  He doesn’t want to fall in love with her.  The timing is inconvenient (he’s in the middle of a case, for God’s sake!).  His boss is breathing down his neck.  The press is trying to squeeze him for a comment on the high profile of the victim. To make things worse, all clues lead to suspect that will rip the city apart with controversy.  Alas, none of that matters to Flannery.  He wants nothing more than to comfort Elizabeth who’s paper thin armor is coming apart at the seams. 


While my writer mind typed away, my inner composer suddenly gathered together an entire harp orchestra.  A soft, beautiful theme glides into the story from the other side of my brain.  Flannery and Elizabeth’s finger’s brush against one another.  Then, they are holding hands for the first time.  Both of them begin to breathe a little quicker…or not at all. Suddenly, the writer in me puts on the brakes.


What just happened?


I listened in the silence; hushing the two potential lovers on the screen in front of me long enough to playback the soundtrack in my head.  I asked myself what every musician asks at the moment of eureka.  Is this melody my own or have I heard it before?  I played it again in my head.  Thankfully, I was writing in my music studio yesterday morning. It’s only two steps from my couch to the wooden seat next Aiden, my harp.  


My right hand found the melody.  Eventually, my left hand found the accompaniment.  My two hands, like the two young lovers in the chapter work together and yet play off of one another.  The theme to their love song is born.


The conundrum before a writer harpist rears its ugly head.  Time flies.  When I looked up, it had  been nearly five hours that have flown by.  The song was solid in my head but not recorded or written down.  Will I forget it?  The chapter in my computer needed to be finished as the couple begs to be just a little closer to one another before I hit save and close the lid of the lap top.


That’s the problem with being a double agent for love.  Sometimes it’s unclear who’s side I’m really on.